


All I Know Is Love

by royalchttphn



Series: Inktober 2019 Prompts - Reddie [11]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Love, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Snow, Snow Day, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalchttphn/pseuds/royalchttphn
Summary: A car passes by, and all it sees is a group of teenagers embracing in the snow.Inktober 2019 Day 11: Snow





	All I Know Is Love

**Author's Note:**

> when you write a Losers fics and become sad with how much you love them

When Richie calls you early in the morning, his voice is brighter than it has any right to be at this time of day. Your initial grouchy mood at being woken up is no match for his enthusiasm, though, and you feel your heartbeat pick up just at the sound of his voice - even if your sleep addled brain is still trying to make sense of what he’s rambling on about.

“Are you even listening to me, Eds?” Richie’s voice shouts at you through the phone. “It’s snowing.”

That, your brain latches onto, and in a flurried tangle of limbs you shove back the curtains of the window by your bed and stare out into the yard. Richie was right, though you know he wouldn’t make this up; he loves the snow more than almost anything.

You can still hear his voice, muffled and tinny from where your phone is swimming in a heap of sheets and it sounds like he’s calling your name and every single one of the ridiculous nicknames (that you adore) that he gave you years ago. You fish for your phone and press it tight to your ear, his excitement washing over you in a wave.

“Richie, it’s _snowing!_” you squeal. It effectively cuts off his incessant repetition of your name and you miss the way it sounds coming out of his mouth as soon as he quiets.

“Yea,” he laughs, and the sound is a symphony, “that’s what I said, dummy. It’s why I called you in the first place.”

“Your parents are gone, right?” You ask into the phone, smiling. “I’ll meet you at your place?”

“You know it, Spaghetti Man. The others are already on their way.”

“What, you called me last?” You’re nowhere near actual upset - you never could be, not with Richie and the Losers - but you enjoy the banter regardless.

You can hear Richie’s grin as he says, “I know you like your beauty sleep, don’t even lie to me.”

“Whatever.” You’re still smiling, and you’re sure nothing could possibly happen this morning that will change that. “I’ll see you later, Rich.”

You hang up the phone and look out the window again, a sigh of contentment slipping through your lips.

*****

Your mother is still sleeping as you slip out of the house, but only once the door is shut and locked do you breathe easy.

You’re wearing the scarf Ben knitted you - or crocheted; you were never quite sure of the difference, even when he tried to teach you - as a gift last Christmas. It’s a reddish-purple color, chunky and warm, and you smile into the soft stitches as you remember how nervous Ben was as you tore into the tissue paper-heavy bag. You remember as he hesitantly asked if you liked it and then didn’t let you answer, taking instead to babbling about how it was okay if you didn’t and that he could get you something else - and then you crushing him in a hug. You loved the scarf, loved how Ben took the time to physically _make_ each Loser a gift instead of simply buying one, and made sure to tell him so. The other Losers ruined the moment by proceeding to start a dogpile - but moments with the Losers never felt ruined.

Standing on the porch, you feel an intense love for Ben. You feel an intense love for all of them. What with high school being an utter bitch, you and the Losers have had less time to hang out as often as you used to; you smile at the prospect of seeing them again and begin the walk to Richie’s.

*****

When you knock on the door, it’s Mike who opens it. Warmth seeps over you as you step inside. Another type of warmth seeps into your heart as Mike wraps his strong arms around you in a hug, his head resting on yours.

“Good to see you, Eddie,” he says, as warm as you feel inside.

“You too, Mikey,” and the two of you make your way into the living room.

Sitting on the two-seater couch are Bev, Ben, and Bill, snuggled up close under a patchwork blanket with frayed edges. You recognize it as the quilt Maggie said she made for Richie before he was born. Mike goes to sit on a pile of blankets on the floor, half of the nest already occupied by Stan. As soon as Mike sits down, Stan puts his head on Mike’s shoulder and hikes a blanket up to their chests. Richie is sitting on the loveseat, chatting amicable with Stan. As soon as he sees you in his periphery, a breathtaking smile splits his face, making it shine.

“Hey, baby,” he says, and that’s all it takes for you to run into his lap. He wraps a slender arm around your waist and you bury your face in his chest.

The Losers spend a little while like this, passing around bags of chips and the tupperware bin of cookies Mike made the night prior. Mike’s cookies, as any of the Losers could attest, were the absolute best cookies in all of Derry. Bill liked to say they were the best in all of Maine, and then Mike would blush and roll his eyes, but thankful nonetheless.

You fall in and out of sleep, warm and safe in Richie’s embrace and the comforting presence of the Losers.

“You think he’s asleep?” Richie whispers above you.

“‘M not,” you mumble. To prove it, you push up and off of where you were slumped against Richie’s chest.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Bev greets from the couch, her smile audible. “We were thinking of walking around in the snow. You in?”

The idea of walking around with your friends and taking in the scenery shoves any hint of sleep from your body, and excitedly you turn to her and nod.

*****

You and the Losers had spent so much time at Richie’s, just basking in each others’ presence, that by the time the seven of you make it outside the sky is tinged with the purple-pink hues of twilight. It’s cold, but you don’t feel the cold - your friends have lit a fire inside your heart and its embers are burning so bright and you begin to tear up. You sniffle and wipe at your eyes and Richie catches your hand midway from your face.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Richie asks, and the others turn to you, concern etched on each of their faces. Their attention only makes your heart swell even more, which you weren’t sure it could even do.

“I just love you all so much.” Your smile is watery but so, so genuine, and soon enough you see the same affectionate smiles beaming at you from your friends faces.

“We love you too, Eddie,” Stan says, and wraps you and Richie in a hug.

It doesn’t take long for Mike, Bill, Ben and Bev to join in.

A car passes by, and all it sees is a group of teenagers embracing in the snow.

The passengers knows nothing of what the teenagers have survived, but even in their Derry-infested hearts they can see what bonds them together:

Love.


End file.
